A Simple Winter: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel by Rosalind Lauer Page B

as Remy copied the last detail of the Halfway map, then tossed the pen down and rubbed the crick in her neck. What time was it? Almost two A.M ., and there were still so many details she hadn’t been able to find over the past few days.
    Information about the King family was sparse; however, she’d found a site sponsored by the town of Halfway. The site included a map that detailed the town’s retail establishments, including quaint tourist stops that might prove to be good sources of information, so she’d copied the basic map into her journal.
    She rubbed her eyes, feeling tired but afraid to stop working. If she wasn’t prepared, this might all blow up in her face. A phone call to the King family stand at Reading Terminal Market had steered her toward Halfway, as the woman who answered the phone, Adam’s cousin, had told her she didn’t expect to see him in Philadelphia for a few more weeks. “They’ll stay local for the winter months,” the woman had assured her. So tomorrow morning,Remy was off to Halfway to get her interview, despite the trepidation rumbling in the pit of her stomach.
    She was afraid of failing. Afraid she wouldn’t be able to find Adam King or his family. Afraid they would refuse to talk with her. Afraid she wouldn’t even make it to the town of Halfway, as she was not a confident driver for long-distance travel. And then what would she tell Arlene? After the buildup, she wouldn’t be able to show her face in the office without some sort of article. If she failed, Herb would use her misstep as leverage to pull her into his new venture with Stu and Max Menkowitz. Just the thought of them made her palms sweat. The memory of dinner with the men was still fresh in her mind; it had been a boring event, full of jokes that weren’t funny and tales of gambling in Vegas. She rubbed her hands on her pajamas, realizing Herb’s big plans added to the pressure to make this story work.
    But when she considered all the things that might go wrong, Remy was most worried about offending Adam. She considered him a friend. Well, she liked to think of him as a friend, and didn’t want to wrong him. After the phone calls she had made this week, it appeared that Adam would be a key source for the story, unless she could gain information from the community. When she had called the sheriff’s office in Halfway, she was told, in a kind but firm way, to take a hike.
    “The investigation has not turned up any new information that wasn’t reported last March,” Sheriff Hank Hallinan had told her. “It would be much appreciated if you media people would just leave this family alone. Haven’t they been through enough?”
    When she reported the sheriff’s statement to Arlene, her boss had glared at her over her bejeweled reading glasses. “Are you telling me there’s no story here?”
    “There’s definitely a story,” Remy had insisted. “It’s just a matter of talking with the family.”
    “But they’re insulated. They’re Amish. It’s a different culture. They’re not starstruck like the rest of America. They don’t want to make headlines.”
    “I’ll get the interview with Adam King,” Remy had said over the nervous thrumming of her pulse. “I know him. He’s … he’s a friend of mine.”
    In retrospect, she realized that “know” may have been a bit presumptuous, but they had met more than once, chatted, and he’d remembered her. In this age of technology, she figured there was something special about a personal connection. Especially when it came to the Amish.
    When Arlene had questioned her further, Remy had tossed out some details she’d learned from her research on the Amish. “When I met Adam King, he was coming back from his rumspringa, the ‘running around’ period when teens are given freedom from the confines of their culture.”
    “A custom that’s garnered a lot of interest lately. People seem to think it’s like college frat boys at spring break.” Arlene rested